


Homework

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Community: 1-million-words, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2058900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If they're going to read case files until their eyes bleed, Mike wants to move it somewhere more comfortable. Harvey obliges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homework

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the July Pool Party on the LiveJournal 1_million_words comm - in which you write for a fandom you've never written in before.

“No more. Enough, I can’t….freaking _look_ at this stuff anymore…”

Mike wanted to fling the papers on his lap onto Harvey’s living room floor. He wanted to sweep the stacks of stationary, Excel printouts and diagrams that were lying between them down there, too. Then he wanted to set the whole thing on fire.

“Your terrible twos must have been epic,” Harvey shifted slightly next to him on the sofa, feet flat on the floor, never looking up from his own stack of documents.

“C’mon. It’s been three solid days. Thursday, we spent ten hours on this project. Friday I spent sixteen more. That’s…insane, by anyone’s standards, even ours. Now my Saturday’s burnt and I need some down time.”

“Did you not ask that we take our efforts somewhere we could kick back and relax?”

“Yes.”

“And I provided exactly what you wanted, didn’t I?”

“You did. Your place is peaceful and … well, it’s too steel and glass for me, but you don’t need my take on your esthetics. And the sushi and beer were awesome. I am, however, past the point of any of that helping.”

“Why?”

Because you’re barefoot in those preppy sweatpants with the Armani break at the ankles and that tight, dark blue v-neck shirt, Mike did not say. And because your Weekend Hair and your ‘just us two’ smile make me want to drop between your knees and suck you off until I hear you shout my goddamned name. 

“I’m human, that’s why. I’m a lousy, lame-assed carbon-based human, not a machine. I know that’s a frailty you don’t _get_ or personally have to endure, but…”

“Pack the rest of this back into the crate,” Harvey got up, nodding at cardboard box nine of twenty-three that the courier service had ferried to them from the office. “Stack everything in the order we took it out. We don’t want to have to backtrack later.”

“And why am I….”

“You need a break? Fine, we’re taking a break,” Harvey went to a blonde wood credenza in the corner and slid open a drawer, pulling out an enameled box half again as big as the hand it was now in.

“Like a twelve hour long one? So I can … go home? Sleep? Shower and shave? ‘Cause that would be fricking ... heaven.”

“We’ll see.” Harvey dropped the box on the coffee table, and since Mike had barely begun re-organizing, he helped him put away the paperwork. “Jesus, buddy, you must be bad off – you’re moving like an old man.”

“I am not an old man. If anyone here is an old…”

“Careful.”

Harvey was sitting again by the time it was all put away, leaning forward at an angle that was very visually familiar to Mike but which looked odd on him. That’s when Mike realized he was fiddling expertly with something on a bamboo mat. There was a lighter lying next to it, right by some rolling papers and a pipe. Add the empty sushi boxes and four beer bottles dotted around it all, and Harvey’s place was starting to look like Mike’s except with far better furniture. 

Apparently they weren’t going to be using the pipe, because Harvey was busily whipping up a primo fatty.

“Holy…crap,” Mike caught a whiff of what was being wound for their pleasure. “That’s good weed. Pungent, but…a very nice, sweet pungent.”

“Finest kind.”

“Okay, Trapper John…”

“Hawkeye. He was the one who said ‘finest kind.’ Plus, if we’re going there I’m Hawkeye. You’re Trapper John.”

“Old. Man.”

“Do you want some of this?” Harvey drew the joint lengthwise in front of his lips, tongue flicking at the seam. “Or not? Boy?”

Oh, he did. He wanted that, thanks. He wanted the pot, too.

“As long as you promise not to get morbid and over-share again.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t really a boy scout, were you?” 

Mike asked it to distract from the way he couldn’t stop watching Harvey’s fingers, his mouth as he lit it up and took the first pull. He held it kind of like old time movie stars held a cigarette, so you barely saw it there under his hand.

“What do you think?” Harvey flipped it around and handed it to him, his voice tight as he talked without breathing out. 

“I’m guessing they asked your parents to make it stop in less than a week.”

“Wrong. But not by much. More like a month… and two days.” He exhaled and Mike smoked. “The atmosphere…. wasn’t for me.”

“Yeah. That whole, ridiculous ‘no I in team’ thing, I know, they’re crazy those kids…”

“This is good stuff, huh?” Harvey asked, grooming the joint on the edge of the ashtray when Mike handed it back.

“Sure is,” Mike sat back. “Smooth. Mellow. I like mellow pot. You keep it around all the time?”

“No. I buy a bag or two a year. When it’s gone it’s gone.”

“Hmmm… interesting. People who ration it to themselves that way…”

“Let’s say you’re not the only one who ever liked it too much.”

Harvey started to hand the joint back to him and then stopped, and Mike saw it; something dark and sparkling and all kinds of mind-fucky growing in his eyes.

“C’mon…cut it out….” 

Mike shook his head, at himself as much as at Harvey. Because even Mike noticed the way his own legs were shifting around, spreading a little; the way he was stretching, the arm closest to Harvey sliding over the back of the sofa and toward him. 

Crap. 

Flirting with him. He was kinda physically flirting with Harvey. 

“You are not seriously going to Bogart that joint, are you?”

“Close your eyes,” Harvey had apparently noticed too; he blurted the words, his voice low and soft like he was going somewhere before he could change his mind.

“What?” Mike felt himself flushing.

“I said close your eyes. Need a please?” If it was possible, the tone got even softer – still Harvey’s voice, but a flavor of it he’d never heard him use before. “Please close your eyes.”

Mike nodded as he did. 

A weird, jittery tingle, half buzz and half nerves, zipped through him at the sound of Harvey taking another pull. He felt him shifting away to discard the joint, then shifting back toward him. 

Close to him. He was very close. Mike fought the urge to peek and pictured it instead; one of those hands pressing against the back of the sofa next to him, Harvey angled toward him, face inches away from his lips….

…on his lips. Barely. Oh.

Mike gasped, instinctively tilting his head for a kiss but Harvey’s other hand redirected him back to face him straight on, fingers lightly under Mike’s jaw, thumb on his chin urging him to open up a little and…

Smoke, cool and light, flowing into him. He breathed it in slowly, waiting until he could tell Harvey’s exhalation was nearly over to let his eyelids open a fraction and…. 

Shit. 

The sight of his mentor… shotgunning pot smoke into his barely open mouth, his own lips a softly formed ‘O.’ Damn that was…. Jesus… kind of hot, kind of twisted.

Harvey wasn’t smiling anymore, was scanning Mike’s eyes for…. what?

“You know,” Mike was thankful the words didn’t come out in a squeak or a rasp. “…that’s really not an efficient way to deliver THC.”

“Weak,” Harvey dipped back in to let his mouth run over Mike’s late evening stubble between words. “You’re stalling. And evading the question.”

“Was a question posed?”

“That look I just gave you was a question. So…if you don’t want this….” Harvey kept grazing and Mike let him. “…now would be a really good time to say so.”

“You do guys, Harvey?” Mike turned his face again, just enough to make sure they brushed lips, keeping it light – pecks and nips and short touches. “Often?”

“Not often. But… I decided a long time ago….” Harvey was climbing more fully on the couch with him, asking for more of his mouth. “…not to live life with one arm tied behind my back.”

“Are you paraphrasing James Dean at me right now?”

Mike tried to climb onto his lap, the promise of a hot, sweet humping so very close… but Harvey pressed him back and urged him down.

“Wait,” He stayed vertical long enough to kick of his shoes and then he was out flat, Harvey sliding over him, mouth finding his, Mike’s leg hitching out to maximize the contact between them and….

Harvey was already getting hard for him. Mike could smell Harvey’s cologne, stronger now than the pot scent clinging to them, their bodies warming as they wrapped around each other, twisting and rocking.

It was like a sweet, slow duel; Harvey dug a knee into his sofa, taking charge of the kiss and the speed they were grinding at. Mike got a leg around him, tried to turn them sideways, but Harvey pinned him down harder and tugged one of Mike’s arms up over Mike’s head, holding it there. 

Of course. He would have some dom in him. 

Mike let go, let Harvey claim his mouth more deeply. He focused on the enticing burn where he was being rhythmically pushed into the cushions, the rush of blood away from his brain, how his back was tightening like an involuntary urge to thrust was coming on.

And yeah, there it was – the ache in his cock taking over, making his hips buck randomly, body twisting and didn’t Harvey love that? He hummed a long, happy ‘mmmmmmm’ into Mike’s mouth, short of a groan but so close to one; so freaking hot, Harvey making sounds for him. 

They were short of panting, but both more than a little breathless when Harvey finally let him catch some air.

“Have you been fucked before?” Mike felt the words being asked against his cheek, his temple. “Have you bottomed?”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt embarrassed at a question posed, if not in bed, then on the way there. Mike found he had to shake his head – safer than risking a squeak or a croak again.

“It’s okay,” Harvey let go of his wrist, and now he was the one tipping Mike, getting them sideways, getting a long leg over his hip, an arm reaching down between them and fingers tugging at Mike’s belt. “We can just….”

“I didn’t say no,” Mike reached, too, a hand finding Harvey’s waistband and sliding into his sweats, fingers searching for the way into his boxer briefs and…yeah. Harvey’s dick in his cupped palm – hot, hard, the tip wet when he slid his hand up, up, up and ran a thumb over it. “Want to get a good look at this bad boy before I decide.”

“Caveat Emptor?” Harvey rocked into Mike’s light grip, teeth finding Mike’s ear. 

“Precisely. I need to know if I’m saying yes to a tilling of my lawn… or if my ass is totally grass.”

“Fine,” Harvey slid away from him and up, got a hand around Mike’s forearm stood and rearranged himself. “Let’s go. But …can we drop the verbal sparring for the rest of the night? No more glibness-- you tell me what you want, and what you don’t and…”

“I can do that,” Mike felt a thump in his chest, in his pants at the tight grip and the way he was being tugged possessively toward the bedroom. “Can you?”

The serious look that earned him, the way Harvey nodded, silent, and marched him in there…It’s when it hit him how not spur of the moment this was. That Harvey had thought about this for….how long? 

Harvey had been wanting him, too. 

~*~

“You’re tensing up,” Mike heard Harvey murmur somewhere over his shoulder. “Relax.”

“I’m not nervous…” 

Mike had more to say in his defense but a sharp slap to his right ass cheek made him fly up off the mattress. It also made him hug the five pillows under his chest and his stomach tighter to him when he fell again, made him squeeze hard around the many fingers Harvey had deep in him. “ _Owww_ … fucker.”

He heard Harvey hiss, a long draw of air through his teeth and tongue, and it hit him the sound was anticipation over what Mike would be clenching equally hard around soon. A wave of _hot_ ran over his neck as he blushed from it, that sound.

“If you weren’t tense… you wouldn’t have jumped like a startled cat. Let go, okay? It’ll feel good or it will stop. You know that, right?”

“I do… yeah. I do.” 

Mike did let go; closed his eyes, let what was left of his pot buzz take center stage in his brain and that was better -- all edges receded. He heard Harvey muttering sweet words of approval, and was so glad his face was half in one of the pillows when some of those words included a deep, growled ‘my good Mike… my good, good boy….’ 

His face must look like a beet.

The process of them having gotten from Harvey’s living room into bed would be a blur in the morning – he’d remember flipping his clothes on the floor and the ‘you didn’t just…really?’ look that had been shot his way. He also remembered turning after he’d picked them up and deposited them on a chair to see Harvey standing between him and the bed, naked now and…

“Bravo,” he’d blurted and Harvey had huffed a soft laugh at that. “No… seriously, as much as I hate to feed into your ego…just…. yeah.”

Harvey’s cock was pointed at ten o’clock, an angle that invited a good sucking, so Mike had been deeply disappointed when he’d walked over and Harvey stopped him from sinking to his knees to give it the attention it clearly longed for.

“Another time, okay?”

“No, not okay… not okay at all. The thing is… I’ve had it on the brain, the idea of…”

“I know, I’m sorry, but…” Harvey had pulled him the last few feet to his bed and was sitting on the edge with Mike in front of him while Harvey rummaged through a nightstand drawer. “I’m kind of an all-one-way or all-another kind of guy and tonight I want what’s been on _my_ brain…seeing as how I started this.”

“You have thought about it, haven’t you? Fucking me? Do you think about it in the shower? Do you think about fucking me into your bed while you’re soaping up in the morning?”

“A couple of times…last week. Do you think about going down on me? In your head… do you swallow me down all the way? When you’re jerking off to it, do you imagine me in your mouth or in your throat?”

“Well…I do go deep with you when I’m wanking but…” Mike stared pointedly at Harvey’s cock, now at high noon against his stomach as Harvey started sliding fingers into him. “On further review… maybe revisions are needed…..to that scenario.”

“Can’t take a little tonsil massage? Poor baby. We'll work on that.”

Mike was about to call a violation of the ‘no banter’ rule, but it was good, such good banter and besides, that was the moment Harvey’s finger first found his prostate. Mike had to settle for almost folding over him, arms over Harvey’s shoulder, fingers digging into his back, his neck as the waves of _fucksogoodgonnacome_ spread through him.

The words had been fewer, further between since then, and were absent entirely now as Harvey’s fingers left him, as those hands urged Mike’s hips up, pressing his chest down deeper into the pillows.

He felt like he should say something but Harvey clearly had no similar need. Mike felt Harvey’s condom covered dick knock once, twice against his wet, worked-over hole and then…

“Ohhhh….fuck….me…..oh _hhhhh_ hhh…”

Harvey was balls-deep with one push, one long, deep grunt and it felt so….. _fricking_ weird. Bad weird? His brain said no, just…. beyond strange; being filled and fucked…taken. 

Harvey gave a couple of first pushes and rearranged them slightly and then he was … _off_ …fingers digging into Mike’s hips, every push into him lighting up both Mike’s cock and the bundle of nerves inside that made him feel like he was going to shake apart. 

“No,” Harvey gritted the word out when Mike tried to get a hand under himself, batting it away. “No… not yet, okay? Want more of this...”

“Yeah, but… shiiit.. it's ..sooo…”

“You all right?” Harvey was lower over him now, chest pressed to Mike’s back, hands reaching for Mike’s where they were grabbing at the pillows. 

“Yeah...but…fu _uccc_ k… didn’t know…what to … _expect_. Wanna come, Harvey…need to….please?” 

He felt fingers twining with his, arms pressing his down and yeah… he was getting well and thoroughly fucked into the bed. 

Eventually Harvey’s right hand left his and made its way around him. It was only one, two, three tugs from there before he was shouting and twisting, the world collapsing into a single, tiny point and then exploding and … the sound Harvey made when he went off the rails, too? 

He’d be incorporating that into his mental movies. Yes, he would.

~*~

“Does this make us fuck buddies?”

Mike had been surprised when the invitation to stay was extended. Had not been the least surprised when Harvey insisted on the shower and a complete change of sheets. 

“You kids and your labels.”

Harvey was on his back, a hand up and behind him under his own pillow. Mike was curled up, fighting hard to keep his eyes open.

“I asked… a… serious question.”

“And that was a serious answer. You’re my Mike. That’s enough for me. I don’t need a…”

“Humans live under definitions. We’re all….somebody’s. Somebody’s kid, sibling, colleague, friend… fuck buddy.”

“Do you have another Harvey?”

“No. I definitely… have never had another…”

There had been more to the lecture, as Mike recalled, but …he couldn’t stay awake for the end of it. 

~*~

The blinds were drawn tight and the door shut when he woke up, but utter lack of light aside Mike could tell it was verging on Noon.

He found a lamp switch and looked around the empty room. He started to get up and realized there was no point rushing– there was no Harvey here.

_Take the rest of the weekend off…._

A note on the pillow next to him, on Harvey’s stationary. 

_We’ll pick the case back up tomorrow. Help yourself to the fridge. See you in the office._

Mike fell back, half amused, half ….not annoyed. What? Irritated. Not surprised. 

Harvey was probably on some client’s boat, or on a Lear Jet to Saratoga to catch the horse racing.

He flipped the paper over.

_No need to discuss this at 7:32am Monday, okay? And if you give me puppy eyes even once… ever… I swear I'll never fuck you again._

“Bastard…”

He set the note on the nightstand and settled back in. 

Harvey’s bed was way better than his. His apartment walls were far thicker. 

He could use some more sleep.


End file.
